


The Golden Pockets or How Waffles might have paved the road to Balance

by Lukediedforoursins



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: And it is unbetaed, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Benperor, Canon compliant-ish, Crackfic-ish, F/M, KB needs a hug most of all, Post TLJ, Rey Needs A Hug, So please show some mercy, The Road to Bendemption is strewn with Waffles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 03:31:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17296925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lukediedforoursins/pseuds/Lukediedforoursins
Summary: What does it take for the Galaxy to achieve Balance?1.One love-struck Galactic Overlord,2.One furious Jedi,3.One long suffering meddling assistant4.Two plates of wafflesand above all...5.One fork.





	The Golden Pockets or How Waffles might have paved the road to Balance

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Black Gloves, Orange Soup](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13665621) by [Solia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solia/pseuds/Solia). 



> The work you are about to read is the result of one turbulent flight home, combined with the ire of being in Belgium and not trying any waffles and my repressed motherly affection for our favorite pair of space-babies.
> 
> Read at your own peril.
> 
> The Kuafa soup and Incident are references to Solia's excellent fic that I can't just recommend enough.

In the furthest corner of the Mid Rim of the galaxy, tucked away in the Eura System, there was an obscure little blue-green planet called Belga.

 

Not much was ever to be said about Belga in any archive that ever bothered to make an entry for it.

 

It was a fairly small planet, as the Old Republican archives said, away from any trade route of consequence, its people, the Belge, too peaceful and simple to make a considerable threat or ally.

 

It was not rich in resources, the Empire had assessed, containing only some ferrum deposits. Their woods were species common in a thousand other systems, their food production ample enough to keep the natives well provisioned, but not so great to make them a possible food source for the troops or refined enough for the eclectic pallets of the Core’s elite.

 

It was a friendly planet, some Resistance fighters that were forced to land there had reported. The Belge, for all their small numbers and relative isolation, were not wary of strangers at all, but compassionate and hospitable, giving the hiding pilots refuge and helping them repair their X-Wings as best they could. But they were too far, too technologically backward, their ships adequate just for a jump to the nearest planets, their hangars barely capable to accommodate a small cargo ship. A base would make no sense there.

 

It was a beautiful planet, the New Republic’s hotel scouts had admitted. Clean seas, gentle rolling green hills, rivers and creeks and brooks criss-crossing the flowering land, lakes sparkling like sapphires and lush forests on Belga’s few mountains, plus the quaint, if somewhat old-fashioned towns and pastoral landscapes might have an appeal to those seeking to escape the commotion and modernity of the bustling Core every now and then. But it was just too far to make it a worthy investment.

 

Even the First Order took little notice of them.

 

True, they had no wealth or resources to be pillaged, but the Belge themselves were tall and strong, and meek enough to be easily captured. Their apparently innate pacifism made them piss-poor soldiers, even those taken from birth, but they were more than capable farmers, almost in communion with the soil it would seem. So, they were transported to the agro-planets to toil themselves with dirt and water and … manure to their heart’s fill.

 

So the troops just landed, rounded up the populace, picked out the strongest looking boys and young men and left.

 

It was a little world, Belga, and always left alone in the end, a tiny blue dot in the astral maps, a side note in any navigation system.

 

That was until the fateful day a reconnaissance fleet looking for the Resistance passed by.

 

Even Namo, the Knight of Ren leading the search, hardly spared that tiny cow-pen of a planet a second thought, but as he tapped into the Force, spreading his consciousness around, searching for any signature that might betray his prey, he stumbled upon a signature so unique, so…. unexpected.

 

Like all the Knights of Ren, Namo.was not more fond of his Master than any other of his subordinates. He was still loyal to his Order though, and if that loyalty entailed searching the Resistance (futily, he suspected) in the furthest corners of the cosmos, then search he would and report all his findings back.

 

⚜

 

_Ping_

 

“ _S-sir, Namo Ren has sent you an update report._ ”

 

Kylo Ren, the Supreme Leader of the First Order, the de facto leader of the galaxy itself, as far as the galaxy was concerned, closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

 

 _Mitaka is a diligent secretary_ , he admitted to himself. The Lieutenant harbored  still a healthy fear of his superior, but he had managed to stop stuttering so badly those last six months and had proven himself to actually be hard-working and dependable even.

 

Yet, his otherwise exemplary service notwithstanding, he still didn’t seem to get in that gelled buble-head of his that not all the Knights’ of Ren reports were not  off-limits to him.

 

_If he makes me read another of Namo’s on toilet paper price discrepancies detected in the Tion cluster,  I ‘ll force-choke him so hard that even KB-1310’s magic cookies won't coax him back into coherence!_

 

 _No, that simply wouldn't do_ , he mentally scolded himself. He was no longer a raging Bantha bull, ready to snap at anything that dared to breathe the wrong way, no. He was a leader now, matured by the sheer vastness of the responsibility of having the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders.

 

_Plus KB would give me a tongue lashing for hurting “the only capable officer in your service not listing daydreaming of plunging a knife in your back as their favorite pastime, you Supreme Moodiness”._

 

_And Rey an even worse one for Force-choking people in general, nevermind if they deserved it._

 

He had received the end of both of their respectively barbed tongues.

 

Many times.

 

Too many times.

 

He had worked far too long today to weather another session.

 

_Force, I bet my ass Snoke never got a migraine from drafting the details of Chandrilla’s Nerf yogurt taxation!_

 

“ _Lieutenant, I think we should call it a day. Forward the report to my holopad and after that, you are dismissed. Will you dine in the officer’s mess or should KB send a dish to your rooms?_ ”

 

“ _It-it will be the mess, Sir, I wish no further bo-bother on KB-1310 tonight_.”

 

_Uh huh, so Rice Pudding does indeed have a sweet spot for my assistant._

 

_Go figure, CD-5689 is truly one perceptive fellow. Perhaps I should move him higher up in Surveillance._

 

“ _Very well then, dismissed Lieutenant, and have a good night_ ".

 

 _Well, at least I don’t sit my arse on a throne all day doing nothing more than harassing my underlings for sport, you geriatric dead piece of gilded crap_ , he thought at his old Master’s spirit, somewhat cheering himself up.

 

Later on, showered and in a fresh and more comfortable garb, he comm’ed KB he was ready for dinner.

 

“ _Two portions again tonight, Sir_?”

 

“ _Yes, and bring yourself a spoon._ "

 

It was utterly predictable that her voice would echo down from the kitchen, the deep metallic tone heavy with mirth.

 

“ _What, no dining with your Jedi girlfriend tonight?_ ”

 

⚜

 

Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader of the First Order, Master of the Knights of Ren, formerly and as of late (sometimes in the dead of the night or during dinner time) also again known as Ben Solo, was a man burdened by sins innumerable, including and not being limited to:

  1.  patricide,
  2.  homicide,
  3.  aliencide,
  4.  more forceful extractions of intelligence from  enemy minds than he could count of,
  5.  marshalling massacres and
  6.  hiding contraband Mon Cala ink capsules into his helmet thrice - _the customs those damned cephalopods posed upon their pen ink were plain ridiculous!_ -



 

Yet apparently, in that bottomless pit of anger, rage and sorrow his 30 years of existence had been, at some point, even unknown to him, he must have done something that had pleased the Cosmic, the Living or both Forces , since he did receive a blessing in the form of KB-1310.

 

It was a bit of a Cinderella story, KB’s case, or so  the press had labeled it once it was leaked out ( _by Hux, he had no doubt_ ).

 

Ben was vaguely ( _thoroughly, but no one needed to know he had a weak spot for fairytales in his youth_ ) aware of the fairytale, and he suspected being elevated from a domestic helper Stormtrooper to personal assistant of a murderous oaf such as himself hardly consisted of a happy ending in the true sense of the phrase. But KB appeared content to have further, more mind-stimulating duties besides cooking his unpretentious food, cleaning his already spotless personal quarters and healing Mitaka’s Post Traumatic Stress Disorder with tea, cookies and smalltalk.

No, apparently handling his complete correspondence, planning new trade agreements to bolster the ailing economies of the recently liberated planets under the Syndicates’ yoke, being one step behind him in meetings with delegations making sure he would start a revolution on a snide remark, while also ascertaining he remained well-dressed, fed and rested was more on par with her true abilities.

 

_At least, she bemoaned her current position only the customary five times per day._

 

And Ben was forever grateful to whatever power brought her in his path, for he was now able to enjoy his Kuafa soup ( _his favorite dinner choice after a certain … Incident_ ), while his assistant sat across him, eating in companionable silence and reading Namo’s report.

 

And frowning at what was written in there.

 

“ _What is it this time, KB? The water temperature faucets are reversed? There are no noodles on Rakata?_ ”

 

_“No, this is more serious. He reports he has located a planet on the edge of the Eura system. He claims the planet itself emits a very distinct Force signature...”_

 

_“As even the most untrained Force Users are aware from the moment they make their first space trip, all planets emit a distinct Force signature, dependent upon the life-for…”_

 

_“... He says it is in perfect balance.”_

 

_What?_

 

_“Impossible. He must have run out of ridiculous things to write and has resorted into making up stuff  just to make me read them.”_

 

“ _Sir, you are perfectly aware of the_ **_reason_ ** _why your Knights are currently deployed in the most outrageously remote corners of the galaxy. While I have no true objections to your_ **_reasons_ ** _, I deem your reading their senseless reports punishment enough for committing what is, essentially, high treason._ ”

 

Ben cocked his eyebrow.

 

“ _High treason? And what, pray, do you consider arranging trade convoys to purposely fall in the hands of the Resistance_?”

 

“ _With your Fretfulness pestering me all along?_ ”, KB paused, the smile brightening her face.

 

_“Why, I think that’s punishment enough for my treason.”_

 

⚜

 

Ben Solo couldn’t really guess why, but this planet, this Belga was really … pleasant, in a strange way. He half expected to detest it, given that it looked alarmingly similar to Luke’s temple, yet it also didn’t. Where the Temple was disconcertingly quiet and serene, this place was teeming with activity.

 

Birds chirping, the cacophony of a group of rowdy adolescents trying (and so far failing) to rebuild a brick wall, a chubby young woman laughingly trying to hush her squealing demon of an infant, even the mooing of this planet’s stange black and white bovine herds in what looked like the town’s slaughterhouse, it all sang of life and death, light and darkness, not fighting each other, but coexisting, circling one another for eternity.

 

_Balance._

 

This half-forgotten pebble in the middle of nowhere, this little town with no real reason of being called a capital if not for an modest spaceport, these people, whose grief on separation was entangled still with hope and the simple wish to rebuild and carry on, where the most startling manifestation of Balance he had ever felt.

 

Apart from a feisty skittermouse that barged into his life to shake his very view on life and the world, that is.

 

Or maybe it was just that it kinda reminded him of rural Chandrila when he was a child, on the few weekend trips he took with Han and Lei… his parents, when they had time to spare, one of the happy memories that had begun to spring back into his mind those past months.

 

_Oh dear, did he just think his signature Upsilon-class command shuttle looked like a bat-like cacophony against the deep green grass and red bricks?_

 

_Who knew the monstrous Kylo Ren was going to turn back into a softie._

 

 _Enough of that, he had a reputation to maintain_.

 

_“Do remind me again, KB-1310, why exactly have I consented in visiting this place instead of orbiting around Akiva again?”_

 

_“ You are here to negotiate a favorable treaty for the glory of the First Order, Sir.”_

  
  
_“ I am pretty sure the galaxy can survive without Belgan Sweet Cream Butter.”_

  
_  
“It is Raw Cream Cow Butter, Sir, and a mighty delicious one from what I heard. We are also here because you felt compelled to investigate the unique occurrence in the Force that was reported by your faithful Knight Namo Ren.”_

 

_Oh, in a playful mood today, aren’t you KB? It isn’t just me then, this stable’s obnoxious likeability must be rubbing on her too._

 

 _“And why, pray, would my_ **_ignorant_ ** _assistant concern herself on matters of the Force?”_

 

She shot him a filthy glare.

 

_“Fine, we are here because some fresh air and sun will make you look less like a ghoul with a chronic case of hemorrhoids.”_

 

_“The way you address your Supreme Leader, Stormtrooper, let alone my suspicion this visit is but an ill-conceived scheme of yours to indulge in your culinary obsession, should warrant you at least one force-choke.”_

 

 _“First of all,_ **_Sir_ ** _, you are the usual recipient of the fruit of my… obsession, so I see no reason you shouldn’t be complicit to my hypothetical scheme. What if Hux get dung on his boots too?”_

_  
“You made your sale, KB, go on, tell them we arrived and mean no harm.”_

 

⚜

 

Yeap, this planet was nice, Ben just accepted the fact, plain and simple.

 

The town, for all it’s simplicity and unassuming looks, was orderly and clean.

 

The people, despite having every good reason conceivable to be afraid of the First Order, were hospitable on a truly existential level. He, Hux and Mitaka had spent a mere hour and a half in discourse with the Grand Cowherd, only to come out and find his personal guard sitting on a table groaning under the weight of a cornucopia ( _a true cornucopia, served in an actual horn of all things_ ) of local delicacies, young boys asking them 100 questions per minute, to the troopers’ apparent (and surprising) amusement.

 

KB was nowhere to be seen,two minutes after they withdrew she had charmed the chief cook enough to be dragged into the kitchens and be party of every culinary secret generations of the local gourmets had safeguarded.

 

Even his talk was somewhat meaningful, to his astonishment. Despite his long and tumultuous story with old, sagely looking bearded men ( _a shame really, he had actually liked Tekka once_ ), he found himself feeling oddly at peace by simply gazing into those florid, round cheeks, the sparkling blue eyes and the majestic snow-white fluffy miracle that was the man’s beard.

 

And his voice, deep and yet sweet , full of the wisdom only old age brings and yet jovial.

 

Not that the Supreme Leader of the galaxy would ever admit, but Grand Cowherd Leup Fier looked like the real-life inspiration for Gift-giver Hannun, the benevolent spirit that brought gifts to children in Chandrila and founder of Hanna City ( _and young Ben Solo’s image of what a loving grandfather would look like, before his tastes in grandfathers well… changed_ ). He even wore a red cape and had a giggling little girl and boy ( _his grandchildren, he had cooed_ ), on his lap the whole time. Someone from the Great Beyond ( _Luke, most likely_ ), must have been shitting with him.

 

That out of the blue nostalgia must have been why in the end of their discourse, he found himself promising to locate the Belgans taken and securely return them to their planet, while also vouching for the future safekeeping of their people in the name of the Order, to General Hux’s amusing incredulousness, sealed with a tour to the meadows surrounding the former Royal Palace, now gifted to him since the last king had died 50 years ago.

 

Even better, Hux was now sporting a fierce sunburn and had managed to trip on a slippery brick, plunging butt-first into a compost pile.

 

It was an overall good day, Ben reflected in his room.

 

_This the beginning of real order in the galaxy._

 

_No more fire and blood. Time for peace and prosperity for the innocent civilians like those kindly souls._

 

_Maybe even time for him to establish a base planetside, he found he had missed breathing fresh air afterall._

 

The palace  had too many windows, too much light and soft breezes and not nearly enough total black rooms as he usually prefered, but the red brick and simple furniture had a certain homely appeal to them, the bed and cushions soft and smelling of soap and sun.

 

_Han… Father would have loved this place._

 

_Rey would like it too._

 

Probably.

 

If they ever managed to get around their pesky ideological differences.

 

_No, you idiot, you could have had her then if you offered her a box of chocolates and a toolkit instead of the galaxy! Consider yourself lucky she agrees to talk with you again!_

 

Yes, allowing several supply runners to be “captured by the Resistance”, while meticulously keeping all search parties away from the location where he may or may not have suspected they were hiding was all worth it for one more moment of gazing into her hazel eyes.

 

And as if on cue, the by now familiar sound of deep rumble signifying yet another Force Bond echoed in his ears. He perked up ( _the very essence of subtlety , if you were 13 and not 30),_ sitting more upright against the headboard, force-pulling the two dishes KB had proudly presented mere moments before as his dinner.

 

Ben thought that impossible, yet Rey looked even more radiant today, and she was already a true beauty even as as an emaciated scrap of a girl on Starkiller Base. But now, the role of the Last Jedi had cast upon her looks a veil of serene strength, a new sense of power and maturity that only amplified her loveliness. Although, truth be told, Ben also ached to see her smiling and carefree as it befit her age, her eyes twinkling with delight, her nimble limbs sprawled upon the soft green grass as her light-gold skin flowered under the gentle caresses of the sun, her newly acquired small curves…

 

_Get a grip, you disgusting ogre, this angel gives you the world already by allowing you the sight of her back, you shall not defile her with your pathetic thoughts!_

 

But she had not greeted him yet, as she usually did when the Force blessed him with a bond of late. Perhaps she had not realised yet?

 

_How do you alarm a lady of your presence without looking more like a lovestruck fool than you already do?_

 

_“Ahem, good evening Rey. Or afternoon, or morning, depending on your current location.”_

 

_There, smooth as silk, even Luke would be facepalming now._

 

Finally, his pearl beyond price deigned to turn and face him.

 

_She looks angry at me, why does she look like that, she was smiling last time we parted!_

 

_Are they short on supplies again?_

 

_Is she hurt?_

 

_They have not been detected, have they, no, sure not, I would have known!_

 

He got up from the bed, tentatively approaching her bent shoulders.

 

_“Rey, is anything amiss?”_

 

 _“ I am surprised you lower yourself so low by addressing me,_ **_Supreme Leader_ ** _.”_

 

_What’s that now?_

 

_“ Rey, what is the meaning of this? I, lower myself be talking to you?”_

 

 _“ But of course,”,_ Rey carried on icily _,” I am but a lowly scavenger, daughter to filthy junk traders, a nothing really”._ She took a deep, slightly wavering breath. _“ I suggest you just suffer through the unavoidable burden of this bond for as long as the Force considers connecting us this time and then you will be free to return to your much…_ **_worthier_ ** _female companions.”_

 

_“Worthier female… Rey, dearest, I am truly sorry for saying so, but you make no sense tonight.”_

 

_Oh, the cold furry in her eyes then, what a wondrous show it would be to watch, had it not been meant for him!_

 

 _“_ ** _You dare call me senseless, you deceitful, backstabbing, moof-faced snake? After making me believe in you again_** _”,_ a gulp, “ ** _after being nice to me again_** ”, a wrench flying to his head, thank the Force for not allowing items to be shared unless touched by both of  them, “ **_after_** _… after making me think that maybe….” ,_ a wheeze, **_“YOU GET YOURSELF A KRIFFING MISTRESS, YOU KRANKING ASSHAT!_**

 

_“A mistress?”_

 

⚜

 

A long time ago, when Ben Solo was still but a gangly teenager with delusions of following a scholarly career, he had located an old fragment of the Rammahgon describing how laughter, real and unadulterated, was among the most certain paths off keeping the Darkness away.

 

Of course, back in the day, Moody Teen Ben had scoffed at the idea; he hadn’t laughed for weeks at that point, he had no reason to. But still, ever the studious pupil, he brought forth his findings to Luke. The Cranky Master frowned, saying that this was a false claim, That was not the Jedi way,the text must have been a fake and the only ways to keep the Dark Side at Bay was “ _Practice, Meditation and keep drinking your blue milk, young Man!_ ”

 

He always had a fixation on milk, the weirdo.

 

Ben had had the privilege of examining the original Rammahgon a few nights past thanks to Rey’s unfathomable magnanimity and had indeed come across that very excerpt, a whole treatise on laughter and the merits of fun and relaxation in fact, so _take that you old fart!_

 

And now, hearing the wild accusation his equal in all had made, he found himself believing that wise writer of old,bent in two, the long forgotten muscles on his face stretching again, gulping for air and blinking back tears between fits of giggles.

 

That was the lightest he had felt since the Temple.

 

For a moment, Rey was transfixed upon his face, eyes wide and mouth hung in wonder. But she quickly shook her head out of it, the steel returning in her eyes.

 

Ben smiled down at her, the tenderness in his gaze enough to melt the glaciers of Hoth.

 

_“Please, sweetheart, why don’t you sit down and let me explain?”_

 

She still watched him icily, but she slowly lowered herself on his bed’s edge, as far from him as possible.

 

_At least she hasn’t tried to murder me, that’s a start._

 

_“Now, would you please share with me where you learned about my assistant?”_

 

_“Oh, do forgive me, Supreme Leader, I am not highly knowledgeable in the etiquette of Coruscant…”_

 

_“...Chandrila...”_

 

_“...Whatever, to know that keeping a woman in your chambers is perfectly polite and acceptable.”_

 

_I don’t know how or for how long I will keep my position, but before I go, I will definitely kill Hux and his cronies, even if that’s the last thing I get to do._

 

_“It was from the Holonet, wasn’t it?”_

 

_“Of course it was, it’s not like we have access to every information channel available, thanks to your hounds sniffing on our trails!”_

 

 _“Rey”,_ Ben carried on patiently _,” it is true that KB-1310 was my housemaid and rose up to be my assistant when I discovered her other… abilities...”_

 

_“...I have no wish for details…”_

  
  
_“... And it is also true that she does reside in my chambers, though she has a separate room with a secure lock…”_

 

_“... That you have the codes for, no doubt…”_

 

_“... Because she has been attacked after averting a murder attempt on me.”_

 

 _“ A murder attempt?”,_ Rey’s face softened a little _, “I have not read that anywhere. Are.. were you hurt?”_

 

 _“ No, sweetheart, I am fine thanks to KB’s timely intervention, but apparently she displeased whomever tried to kill me and she got punished for it ._ Ben raised a brow _, "You don’t happen to know who sent the assassins now, do you?”_

 

 _“ Of course not, killing innocent housemaids is not the Resistance way”_ Reay scoffed, indignantly _.” And she ...assists you now? I thought Lieutenant Mitaka was your Secretary”._

 

 _“Yes, Mitaka does the first skimming of reports, but KB works out the details of the projects before she discusses them with me”,_ he smirked _, “well, before she tells me I better agree with her because she has another 20 reports and no time to spare for an anal-retentive Wampa”._

 

Rey smiled at that.

 

_“She sounds funny.”_

 

 _“She is too insolent for her own good, but I humor her. She may remind me of a certain someone else.”_ Ben dared to scoot a little closer _.“I think you ‘ll like her, she definitely likes you, from what I ‘ve told her.”_

 

_“You.. you ‘ve told her?”_

  
_  
“Everything. The Bond, Snoke, all of it. And she pronounced it better than any Shili soap-opera, which is KBish for giving her full support.”_

 

Rey sighed.

 

_“Still, Ben, she is far superior to me,  she must be well-educated and cultured. I have seen her pictures, she, she looks regal, a woman fit for your arm…”_

 

Oh no. 

 

Oh dear.

 

_Kriff._

 

**_Ben Solo, you are denser than a bloody Nerf, she thinks you find her unattractive, get a grip you fool!_ **

 

 _“Oh Rey”,_ he would never tire of uttering her name like the holiest of prayers _, “ did you ever think I would consider any other woman after you?”_

 

He reached out and touched her hand.

 

She didn’t swat it away.

 

_Progress._

 

_“I have eyes, my beloved, KB is an attractive woman indeed. But no candle, nevermind how brightly burning, can ever be compared to the Sun itself”._

 

Rey waw watching him closely, her eyes now sad and vulnerable.

 

_My silly lovely Jedi, to think yourself below any woman._

 

_“I once had claimed I might earn the right of a proper kiss from you one day. Of course, the more you bless me with your presence, the more I find myself unworthy of it now. But please, please my beloved, don’t ever think again that I will put another woman in your place in my heart. Even if you drive my away again, there will never be anyone else but you”_

 

Rey gave a watery chuckle, a little teardrop dangling from her eyelashes.

 

_“You nerf-herder, you should have spoken like that on the Supremacy!”._

 

⚜

 

Ben squeezed her hand.

 

_“I should have, I didn’t and I will forever regret it. But it is the future that concerns me more now. Rey, I… I can’t carry on like this.”_

 

_“Like what, Ben?”_

 

_“Hunting down the Syndicates, always rooting out their dens, only for two new ones to spring up in their places. Keeping Hux and my Knights in check everyday. Staging a search for you to keep mouths shut. The Galaxy needs more than this, I see that now everywhere, from the Core to this tiny pebble of Belga. More than just an iron fist upon the ruffians to be in order. It needs peace too, trade and diplomacy and safety. It needs...”_

 

_“ … Balance.”_

 

 _“Yes.”_ He sighed and combed a hand through his hai _r. “ I know that the chances are slim with my mother gone, but… is there a possibility Dameron would accept talks with us?”_

 

Rey’s eyes went wide like saucers.

 

_“You mean to begin peace talks with the Resistance? Really?”_

 

_“We can’t keep the peace just by brutal force, it can’t work, it will never work, I see this clearly now. Maybe if we were at peace, or had a truce at least, we could inspire trust to the wary systems. The Galaxy has bled enough, it’s time to mend its wounds.”_

 

_“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps I could breach the subject, though I can’t promise much, for now at least. Maybe if I tell them that you have been secretly helping us... “_

 

_“NO! No, my dearest, this will only make you a traitor in their eyes and I will not have you ousted by your… people because of me. It was only a thought, forget it.”_

 

 _“ Ben.... I don’t think  either of us should.”,_ she reached out this time to take his hand again, “ _the Resistance can’t carry on like this either. We… I… So far, we follow the General’s last order of helping those in need rather than waging yet another pointless attack. But there are those itching for a fight again, Poe among them. And I‘m afraid Ben. We were all blind on Crait, and now that I think we finally start to see, we will be dragged into bloodshed again.”_

 

 _“We won’t be, not again, not while I still can prevent it in any way”,_ he gazed at her fervently _, "I swear it, by all the ghosts of Alderaan, I do.”_

 

As if on cue when things got overly dramatic, Rey’s stomach rumbled loudly.

 

She blushed fiercely and covered her mouth to suppress a laugh.

 

 _“I’m so sorry, here I am, ranting on peace talks and you are hungry”,_ Ben fussed _.”I had a plate brought in for you”._

 

Nothing made Rey’s face light up like food.

 

Ben found it endearing.

 

Ben found it enraging.

 

_“If only they could see me now, breaking bread with the Supreme Leader! What is it this time?”_

 

_“Some local dish called Gaufre. Here.”_

 

The two plates contained a pastry of some kind. It had an appetizing look about it, golden-brown, with strange square pockets on its surface, each pocket filled with either a blue or a red berry-looking fruit, and powdered with caster sugar, its smell having notes of butter and spice.

 

 _Wait, what in the Force’s shake_ …

 

Just one fork.

 

_Honestly, if KB kept staying smitten with his Captain of Guards, he would indeed stop just threatening to choke her and would give her a little squeeze to bolster her memory!_

 

Well, the gentlemanly thing to do would be giving the cutlery to Rey, since she hated eating with her hands in front of him, his little desert rat.

 

_He could always eat up KB’s liver later._

 

_“Try it while it still warm, KB’s orders.”_

 

_“Hah, did she put it this way?”_

 

_Note to self, never let these two meet._

 

_“She might have said if I gave my Jedi lady friend her perfectly cooked Gaufres cold she would skin me with a dull butter knife.”_

 

_And oh, how his spinbarrel guffawed at that!_

 

_“Won’t you eat with me Ben?”_

 

_“No, I have no… appetite for now, I will eat a little later.”_

 

Rey just raised her shoulders and put the first bite in her mouth.

 

And Ben, for the 1000th time now, was certain on an deeply existential level he was well and truly a goner.

 

He was pathetic, to taint such a beacon of Light and goodness with his Darkness, even in thought, but how could he not? Just look at her, biting into her gaufre with abandon, moaning with pleasure at the taste, her eyes closed, her dusky pink lips glistening with the glaze of sugar and butter upon them...

 

_And she just caught him gawking at her._

 

_Again._

 

_Great, just great, Solo._

 

_“...Ben?”_

 

_Shitshitshitshitshit._

 

_“Huh?”_

 

_“You must really taste this right now, this dish is good enough to give into the Darkside for.”_

 

_Am I blushing too?_

 

_Of course I am._

 

_Why do I turn into a teenager around her every time?_

 

_Here Luke, mission accomplished, I ‘ll die celibate, happy now?_

 

“ _Sorry, I… I.. No fork”_.

 

Rey eyed him again now, eyed his mouth, her eyes heavy-lidded, her chin set with determination.

 

A slow, sly grin spread on her face then, a mischievous glint he never saw in her haunting eyes before, making his mouth dry and the cool room feel several degrees hotter.

 

She leaned closer to him, smelling of berry, and butter, of sugar and a hint of motor oil and under that of sun and sand and something sweet and utterly her own….

 

_“No… we can’t have you not tasting them while they're still hot, can we now?”_

 

⚜

 

Stormtroopers is never supposed to gloat upon their successes. How can the bodily extensions of the infallible First Order be anything less than successful and live?

 

That’s right, they can’t.

 

Yet sometimes, at the end of one more day without incident, KB-1310 just couldn’t help from giving herself a small mental pat on the shoulder.

 

Yes, the Supreme Leader’s issues run far deeper that she was willing and capable of reaching, the man’s psyche a black pit of despair and self-loathing when she started serving him. But she had seen that under all the anger and bitterness, there was still a kind soul in that hulking Wampa of a man, a goodness crying out to be allowed to surface again, waiting only for a little helping nudge.

 

So she had tried to help him in her small ways, making his daily life as easy as possible, shouldering his work as best as she could. Her growing sass was not a planned inclusion, but, for all his grumbling threats, he wore his heart upon his sleeve and his sleeve said he enjoyed it.

 

_One might even dare describe them as friends, rather than master and servant, at this point._

 

Yet there were some forms of help he direly needed still, and not even a friend was capable ( _or socially acceptable_ ) of giving.

 

_An ex-scavenger turned last Jedi though…_

 

_Yes, yes that would do. So long the two fools stopped dancing around one another and got to it._

 

Thus, KB took it upon herself to subtly give them a push at the right direction. She took care to note which meals her master (read: **Rey** ) had enjoyed the most and had them pop up more often at the menu, she had to pull several strings and sacrifice a prime wheel of Strider Cheese to find some warm white light bulbs to make his chambers look a little more inviting,hell, she had used all her ingenuity to include some colour in the Master Bedroom’s furnishing without him burning the offending items…

 

And above all, she always made sure the Porg-Eyed Wampa ate, slept and remembered to put bacta patches on the new bruises he got daily from exercise.

 

So, she could proudly say now that her charge looked light years better than a year ago:

 

  1. he was now less ashen-pale and more of a healthy ivory look,
  2. the bags under his eyes were **almost** unnoticeable,
  3. his posture had improved, him now standing proudly at his full height
  4. his hair looked ( _ **even** ) _ more lustrous and full  ( _how was that possible, she had to “liberate” some of his shampoo one day_ ),
  5. best of all, his temper had mellowed to the point that he could go two full days without making a petty officer consider turnip farming as a legitimate alternative career.



 

Indeed, he was now a perfect picture of true regal dignity.

 

_Like now._

 

He sat with his back serenely upon his bed, immaculately dressed for a casual evening, an ancient manuscript in his hands… held upside down, hair disheveled, lips unmistakably kiss-swollen, a bruise close to his jaw that looked suspiciously ( **totally** ) like a hickey and _oh my, was that sugar on his nose tip?_

 

_That looks worthy of at least an internal  high-five!_

 

But she was a merciful soul, KB. So she said nothing, merely gathering the two empty plates and the long forgotten fork from the carpet.

 

Only, as she was closing the door, did she pause to ask:

 

“ _How were your Gaufres, Sir?_ ”

 

And that starstruck gaze, combined with the widest, most shit-eating grin she had ever thought conceivable a human face, was reward enough; the risk of having her liver sautéed totally worth it.

 

“ _They were_ …. _exquisite._ ”

 

KB just nodded, closed the door and walked a good twenty paces down the corridor until she calmly left down her tray and started silently dancing in celebration.

  
**_Come to the Balance_ ** , she laughed at the Jedi ghosts holding their breaths into  the Great Beyond, **_we have Waffles!_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Gaufre is the french word for waffles.
> 
> Feel free to give me your honest opinions! (dodges tomato)


End file.
